"I see," Joe said thoughtfully. Who the hell was it? One of the princes? Hirohito had two brothers and a son.

"The gentleman is bored and is constantly after me to play chess with him. While playing, he harangues me with reasons why we should quit the war. If he were a lesser personage, I would beat him with my fists as well as at chess. He is but a mediocre player, and I am confident you would be able to hold your own with him as well as refute his misplaced logic, or at least not be affected by it."

Joe allowed himself a smile. "I share that confidence, sir, but how will it affect my search for the spy?"

"You will have to do both, Captain. I will give you a small traveling chess set that I have. Please refresh yourself and practice. If you would like, I will play you and give you some pointers."

Joe smiled ingratiatingly. "At this time I do not think I would be a worthy opponent for an infant. I will, however, take you up on your challenge in a couple of days."

Sakei laughed. "It is good to be with a soldier. You have no idea how weak Onichi was. He was so squeamish during interrogations of civilian suspects that he had to turn them over to his underlings. He did not know that a few painful and necessarily brutal deaths were but a small price to pay for victory."

Joe took the small case with the chess set, saluted, and left. He hated chess, but if he was going to find out what was going on in Camp 7 and determine whether it was important enough to report, then he would play the damn game. But Sakei's comments about interrogating suspects surprised him. The kempei in Japan rarely physically abused Japanese citizens. They might kick or punch someone, but Sakei had strongly implied brutal torture. The kempei preferred more subtle methods of intimidation to inspire terror.

So what then was so important that people had to die for it? Who the hell was the haggard Colonel Sakei trying to protect? Who could be so important? Then it dawned on him. Sakei hadn't been referring to one of the princes or even the crown prince when he said it was one of the royal family. The man in the hospital was Hirohito himself!

Chapter 45

"Marine, you die!"

Lt. Paul Morrell nudged Sergeant Collins. "Maybe we should tell him we're U.S. Army and not marines."

Collins coughed deeply and spat on the ground. Like most of the men, the chill air had given him a bad cold. "Let'm die happy, sir. If he wants to think we're marines, it's just fine by me. I'm just a little surprised he pronounced his r so well. Don't they have difficulty since it's not in their alphabet?"

Once again, they lay prone on a hill and faced upward at a Japanese strongpoint. This one was a cave that had been pounded by artillery without destroying it or killing the occupants. The machine-gun fire from its narrow opening had stalled the advance, and the ground leading to it was too steep for Sergeant Orlando's tank to negotiate. Attempts to burn them out with a standard infantry flamethrower had also been futile. They were less than a hundred yards away from the cave and the inhabitants had started yelling at them in bad English.

"You die like MacArthur!"

One of the men near Paul asked, "Should we yell back, sir?"

"Don't let me stop you."

Morrell checked the shadows on the ground. In a few minutes it would be night and the advantages would shift, but to whom? Maybe he could get some men close enough in the dark to throw in a satchel charge and blow up the cave entrance. He thought back to the lecture on Okinawa and shuddered at the thought of people, even Jap soldiers who had it coming, being buried alive. He hadn't had to do that yet, but it looked as if the time was coming.

On the other hand, there was the distinct possibility that the Japs in the cave were working up enough nerve for a banzai attack, which would end it all and take them out in a blaze of fanatic glory. If that was the case, he didn't want his men out of the holes they'd dug when it occurred. They'd wait awhile.

The sky darkened and the cloud layer made it even more gloomy and difficult to see. Paul checked by radio with Captain Ruger and was told that mortars with flares were ready for firing. Paul and Ruger wished they weren't so damned close to the cave. As always, the Japs had waited until the platoon was on top of them before revealing their existence. Once again, he had wounded to care for.

"MacArthur dead! You dead too!"

"How the hell do they know these things?" Sergeant Collins wondered. "They get a newspaper in there or something?"

"Beats me," Paul answered. "You have any thoughts as to how many of them are in that cave?"

"I gotta guess at least ten or so, but not too many more. Goddamn cave just doesn't look that big."

That was close enough to what Paul was figuring. Not that many Japs, but they were so damn close to them. If only the flamethrower had killed them, but it hadn't. Maybe the cave was deep enough for the Japs to hide in and save oxygen, which also meant that there might be more Japs inside than they thought. Or maybe the enemy had built baffles or walls within the cave that the fire from the flamethrower could not negotiate its way past. It hadn't taken long for the Japs on Kyushu to figure out that a flamethrower's stream could be deflected by a wall of rocks and that the persons behind the barrier would be reasonably safe as long as their air held out.

"I want a flare," Paul ordered. A few seconds later, the hillside was illuminated with a harsh, artificial light that floated down to the earth, where it gradually faded away. There were no Japs under it.

"Nimitz eat shit!"

"Nimitz's a sailor," Paul found himself saying. "What'd you expect?" That got more laughter from those who heard it, causing Paul to wonder again just how men could find humor in such deadly circumstances. The resiliency of both himself and the men under his command was incredible.

"Banzai!"

They froze. Was there motion by the cave? Paul called for another flare. It revealed nothing.

"Banzai!" The voice was a lament and a scream. A frightening call to arms.

"Sergeant," Paul said, "you know what the hell they're doing?"

Collins was chewing gum nervously. "I think they're working up the nerve to come out. Probably liquored all to shit as well."

"Banzai! Banzai!"

"Flare," Paul ordered, and again the lights came on. Still no Japs.

Then, just as the light faded, Japanese soldiers spilled out of the cave like ants erupting from a disturbed colony. In an instant of shocking clarity, Paul could see that only a couple of the dozen or so Japanese running at them had rifles. Most carried grenades and ran toward them with their mouths wide-open and screaming incoherently. In front of them, one man, obviously their leader, waved a sword and exhorted them on.

"Fire!" Paul screamed. "More flares!"

Rifle and BAR fire rippled down the American line. Japs were hit, tumbled, and jerked about. Within seconds, a half dozen were down and writhing on the ground, but another handful had made it through. More gunfire erupted and additional enemy soldiers thrashed and twitched and rolled downhill. They were dead, but their momentum carried them forward.

A couple of them were still unhit. The officer with the sword was nowhere to be seen, but two men with grenades in each hand were almost on them. Then there was one. He stopped a few yards in front of them and hurled both grenades just as his body was ripped to bloody pieces by a score of bullets.

One grenade exploded harmlessly in front of them, but Paul watched in horror as the second grenade arced through the air toward the soldiers to his left. First, he heard screams of panic, then a loud PHUMP! and finally a call for a medic.

While the rest of the platoon continued to shoot the fallen Japanese to make sure they were dead, Paul raced to where the cry for a medic continued with rising intensity. He leaped into a ditch where two previously wounded men looked on in shock at the body of their medic, Corporal Wills. Wills lay facedown with his arms stretched out. Blood and gore saturated the ground on all sides around his abdomen. Sickened by what he knew he would find, Paul turned the man over.